Through His Eyes
by TheSwordofGodricGryffindor
Summary: His life changes after he is reaped for the Hunger Games. He is then groomed and trained by his mentors for the Games. They think he can win, he's not so sure. These are the 74th Hunger Games; through Thresh's eyes.
1. The Reaping

The hot District 11 sun beats down on my face. I'm standing with all the other boys my age, waiting for the names of the tributes to be called. Every year it's the same: we line up, hoping we don't hear our own name called.

I spare a glance over at my younger sister, who's standing with the other girls. She's trying to look brave, but I can tell she's terrified. I can't blame her, really. When I was her age I was terrified of being reaped too. Now I don't care. People don't live long in District 11; I'm dead either way.

A Capitol woman - Vivian I believe is her name - steps up to a microphone. I tune out as she drones on about why it's a great honor to be reaped for the Hunger Games and then shows a video about it. Finally she announces that she will pick the tributes. She walks over to a large bowl filled with names. She waves her slender, manicured hand over the bowl, and then plunges it in.

My sister closes her eyes and starts breathing heavily. Vivian clears her throat before reading out the name. It's not my sister. I relax a little, relieved. Then I notice the girl who's been called mount the stage, and my breath catches in my throat. The girl is no older than twelve. She's so small. Her deep brown eyes survey the crowd, obviously stunned. She looks so lost, so vulnerable. I look around to see if anyone will volunteer to take her place, but no one does. No one ever volunteers in District 11.

Suddenly, I realize how quiet it's become, and that everyone's eyes are on me.

"Thresh? Where are you?" Vivian calls.

It was my name, she called my name . . . I'm going to the Hunger Games.

I step forward stiffly, and mount the stage. I look out at the crowd. Some of them are whispering, they think I can win . . . Then I notice my sister. Her eyes are filled with tears, and when she catches my eye she quickly looks away. I look past her, trying to find my grandmother where she's standing with the other adults. We lock eyes for a moment, and she gives me a firm nod.

I turn and face the small girl - Rue I think her name is. We shake hands. She's trembling with fight, so I try to give her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"There you have it!" Vivian trills. "Our two tributes from District 11!"

The crowd claps, not because they want to, but because it's protocol. A group of Peacekeepers come and beckon us away from the stage. I'm brought to a room and the doors are closed behind me.

I sit in silence for a bit, Rue's face seeming to burn into my mind. It's not fair that she was reaped. She's so young; she'll never make it. I wonder if she has a family . . . I've seen her working in the fields before, but I never really paid her much attention until today.

Suddenly the door opens, and my sister and grandmother step in. My sister flings her arms around me and starts crying. I stroke her hair softly.

"Don't die, Thresh, please don't die!" She sobs into my shoulder. "You have to come back!"

"I will, I promise," I reply. I shouldn't make a promise I can't keep, but it reassures her, and she stops crying.

My grandmother steps forward and places a firm hand on my shoulder. She may be old, but she's still strong.

"Look, Thresh," my grandmother says, "you can win this, you can! You're strong and you're smart. It's a good combination. The Careers will be tough, but they'll be caught off guard because they won't expect a tough tribute to come from District 11. Just get some supplies, and if you can get a weapon, but don't stick around the Cornucopia! Find somewhere where you'll have the upper hand."

I nod solemnly, not sure how to answer.

"Oh, and here." My grandmother pulls something off from around her neck and presses it into my hand. "Take this for your token."

I look at the object in my hand, it's a chain with a small metal plate on it, like a dog tag, and my father's name is engraved on it.

"Was- Was this his?" I ask softly.

"Yes," My grandmother replies, tears in her eyes. It's the first time I've seen her cry since my parents died.

Just then the peacekeepers come in and start dragging my sister and grandmother out of the room.

"I love you, Thresh!" My grandmother cries. "And please, protect that little girl-"

The door slams shut, and I'm left alone in silence again.

I wonder if Grandmother's right . . . Maybe I really can win this.


	2. Train Ride

"Feel free to eat anything on the table!" Vivian says cheerfully. "The Capitol wants to indulge you a little before you go into the Hunger Games. Isn't that thoughtful?"

She goes on, bubbling about how excited she is for the Games, but I ignore her. Really, how dense can she be if she thinks the Games are actually a _privilege_?

I look over at Rue. She seems overwhelmed by all the food before her, or maybe just overwhelmed by all the events that have transpired.

"The bread's good," I comment to her, holding out the basket filled with it, "would you like some?"

She nods slowly, and takes it from me without saying a word. She seems awfully shy . . .

"So, these are the tributes Seeder and I have got to work with, eh?"

I look up, and see a tall, strong-built man with dark skin, who looks to be in his fourties, enter, followed by an older woman who has sleek black hair with silver streaks, olive skin and golden brown eyes. I quickly realize they are our mentors; Chaff and Seeder.

Chaff sits down and grabs himself an apple. He gazes at me intently, as if sizing me up. He looks like a mess, and I can smell alcohol on his breath. Finally, after a few awkward minutes, he speaks.

"Well, I must say, I like my chances this year. I can definitely work with you, Thresh."

"Not that we haven't been trying to help the other tributes win in the past," Seeder adds pointedly, giving Chaff a glare.

"Yes, it's just the people we've had to work with are . . . How do I say this? Less than fighting material," Chaff replies, taking a bite out of his apple.

Seeder rolls her eyes, and then turns to Rue. "What's your name, Sweetie? Rue, right?"

"Yes," Rue says softly. It's the first thing I've heard her say.

"Well, Rue, I'm here to help you win . . ." Seeder pauses. "I'm sure you have many skills. What are you good at?"

"I guess I can climb . . ."

"Excellent," Seeder smiles warmly. "You can show me just how good at climbing you are tomorrow when we get to the Capitol."

"And me?" I ask.

"You get to train with me," Chaff says, clapping me on the back. "I'm going to make sure you give those Careers a run for their money."

"How about we watch the broadcasting of the reapings?" Vivian pipes up. "I'm sure you two will want to see the competition you're up against."

Chaff throws his apple core onto the table and wipes his fingers on the table clothe, which causes Vivian to grimace. "Not a bad idea."

We settle onto a leather coach and Vivian turns on the TV. I watch the screen intently as they show the different tributes get reaped. The two tributes from District 1 make me grimace, they look perfect; healthy and done up. They're so well-off while people in District 11 are starving to death, and can't even eat the food they harvest without being executed. It's sickening.

Both the District 2 tributes are volunteers, and I know I'll be in for a tough fit. The boy is almost as big as me, and the girl has a murderous glint in her eye that makes me wary to cross her.

The rest of the tributes go by in a blur, none of them particularly memorable. I see Rue and myself mount the stage. Rue looks even more lost on camera than she did in real life . . . Then they show the District 12 tributes. A young girl is called to the stage - she can't be any older than Rue. However, someone steps forward, screaming that they'll volunteer to take her place. I sit, stunned. No one ever volunteers in District 12. The girl says her name is Katniss Everdeen. I make a mental note to remember her; I have a feeling that there is more to her than meets the eyes. After the District 12 boy is reaped Vivian turns off the television.

"Well? What do you think?" Vivian asks, a little too cheerfully.

"Well, the Careers look like they'll be difficult as always," Chaff says.

"Also, we should keep an eye on that District 12 girl," Seeder adds. "It's not often that someone from one of the outer districts volunteers. She must be very brave."

"Looks like you two are in for a tough fight," Vivian says, clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth.

Yes, I'm definitely in for a tough fight . . .


	3. The Capitol

The train ride lasts a while. I try to get some rest, but my dreams are haunted with visions of Rue getting killed over and over again in various ways. Eventually I give up, and wander into the hall. I enter the lounge and sit on a couch, watching the land zip by as the train races along the tracks.

"You can't sleep either?"

I turn around and notice Rue sitting in an overstuffed chair. Part of me is shocked to see her alright, and not mutilated in some way like she was in my dreams.

"Not really," I reply.

She looks at me with her large brown eyes and bites her lip. "Chaff thinks you can win. So does Seeder and Vivian . . ."

I glance at her, I'm not exactly sure how to answer the statement. After a few seconds I motion to the spot on the couch next to me. She pauses, and then comes over and sits with me.

"I may be big and strong, Rue, but you're quick and clever. I think you have just as good a chance as me," I say.

"Really?"

"Absolutely."

She sits silently and then leans her head against my arm. After a few minutes she falls asleep. I look down at her sleeping form, and put my arm around her tiny body. Whatever happens, I must protect her. Soon, I feel myself drift into a nightmare-free sleep.

* * *

I wake up the next morning to find myself still sprawled on the coach. Rue's already gone, and I can hear the sounds of talking from the next room. I wander over to the sounds, and discover Seeder, Chaff, Vivian and Rue sitting around the table eating breakfast.

"Morning," Chaff calls as I enter the room. He motions for me to sit. "Seeder and I have been discussing the survival strategies we're going to teach you and Rue."

Rue ducks her head, and takes another mouthful of bread. I'm surprised someone so small can eat so much, but she's been devouring any food set before her.

"And?" I ask.

Chaff shakes his head and skewers a piece of meat with his knife, he struggles a bit as he tries to cut it, since he only has one hand. He lost the other in the Games. Everyone in District 11 knows the story - he is one of our only victors, after all.

"Don't be so hasty, Thresh, these Games will likely be the death of you."

Seeder raises her eyebrow at him. "The fact is, we've got different strategies for the two of you that play to each of your strengths, and we don't really want you to know the other's plan because, well . . ."

"There's only one victor," Chaff finishes bluntly. Then adds, "Not that we don't want you two to work together."

"Chaff, just stop talking," Seeder says, shaking her head.

"Oh, look!" Vivian pipes up. "I can see the Capitol!"

I walk over to the window and stare out. The Capitol is breath-taking, with tall skyscrapers and large glass windows on every building, but there's something about it that seems so . . . fake to me. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

As we get closer I start to see the people. I'm so shocked by their appearances I'm not sure how to react. They look so bizarre. Some have different colored skin, strange hair teased over their heads in strange curls, and gallons of make-up plastered onto their face.

Rue's eyes are wide as she stares out the window at the people. They cheer and start waving at us. I fold my arms and stare at them, without waving back. These people are going to watch us die; we're just part of a game to them. I refuse to play along. I'm going to let them know just how much I despise them.

Rue just stares open-mouthed at them as we pass, not sure how to react. The train comes to a sudden stop, and Vivian beckons us to leave the vehicle.

As I walk through the crowd of people, I keep a stony expression on my face. Rue walks closely behind me, as if she's using me to shield her from the eyes of the Capitol people.

I hear the people making comments about my size, and how District 11 might finally have another victor. Then I hear someone comment about Rue.

"Poor girl, she doesn't stand a chance. I bet she'll die in the bloodbath."

I freeze and spin around, my eyes flashing as I try to spot the person who said it. Chaff comes up behind me and grabs my arm, pulling me forward.

"Easy, Thresh," he whispers in my ear. "Remember, you need these people."

"I don't want anything to do with them!" I hiss.

"I know, but they're potential sponsors. They're the difference between life and death."

I walk stiffly the rest of the way, squaring my shoulders and trying to look confident. The doors of the Capitol building close behind me, and I finally let my act drop.

I'm heading to certain death, and my life is in the hands of those strange bird-like people. Great.


	4. The Chariot Ride

**A/N: So I was checking the status of this story the other day, and it's really taken off! Thanks SO much to all of you who are reading this! Special shout-out to infinitearms and glitchmob9 who reviewed this story.**

* * *

"Alright, I think you're ready to meet Watrock now!" the Capitol people chirp.

Good. I've just endured an hour of hair-plucking and having to listen to the comments of these people as they judge me. This Watrock can't possibly be worse than these people. I'm still unsure of why I have to go through this "beauty-treatment", but Chaff insists that it is a necessity to gain sponsors. Well, I know I won't be gaining many sponsors because of my looks. They'll all be looking at my physique.

"So you're Thresh."

I turn and see a woman enter the room. She has deep pink eyes, and a shaven head with curling pink tattoos all over it.

"I'm Watrock, your stylist," she says, holding out her hand.

I shake her hand. I honestly wasn't expecting my stylist to be a woman with a name like "Watrock". It sounded pretty masculine to me.

"Here." She hands me a robe, which I quickly put on. "Sit down, Thresh."

I do as she asks, and she sits next to me.

"So, I take it you know about the opening ceremonies, where all the tributes ride in on chariots, dressed in costumes that reflect their districts."

I nod. District 11 is always dressed in glamorized farmer's outfits. They're terrible.

"So I'm going to dress you in the same costume that I always do."

"A farmer's outfit," I say, wrinkling my nose a little.

Watrock nods, and gives a sigh. She looks tired and worn down, she must not like her job . . . I wonder how long she's been District 11's stylist.

"I know it's not spectacular, but I don't exactly have a lot to work with." She stares off into the distance, lost in thought. "One day, I hope I can design for District 1. I have so many wonderful ideas for them . . . Nobody likes my designs for you District 11 tributes. Well, I'm sorry, but do they realize how hard it is to come up with costumes for a district whose main job is agriculture? They're lucky I don't just dress you as wheat!"

I raise an eyebrow, a bit taken aback at her outburst. She sighs again, and rubs her temples. We sit in silence for a bit, both unsure of what to say.

"Look, I'm going to go get your costume ready for tonight, I'll meet you back here later."

* * *

Watrock adjusts the strap of my overalls.

"I look like an idiot," I mumble under my breath.

Watrock gives me a death-glare, but doesn't comment on it. "There, you ready for the chariot ride?"

I give a nod.

"Well don't you look . . . fantastic . . ."

I turn to see Seeder, Chaff, Rue, and Rue's stylist Aelius enter.

"Chaff, don't do that," Seeder says, elbowing the man.

"I didn't say anything negative!" Chaff says with an impish grin, throwing up his hands in defense. "It's just, Thresh doesn't exactly look . . . tough in that outfit . . . Rue pulls it off, though."

I glance over at Rue. It's true. The outfit looks cute on her. It just looks stupid on me. This won't help me gain any sponsors.

"Alright, up you get," Watrock says, motioning to the carriage.

I climb onto the chariot, and Rue steps up beside me. She grips the handrails tightly, causing her knuckles to turn white. I give her a reassuring smile, but I'm not sure if she notices, she looks like she's going to faint.

"Okay, you're off in three . . . two . . . one."

With a sudden jerk the horses start trotting forward. We enter a large arena, packed with those strange Capitol people. They cheer and holler at us and the other tributes us we ride by. I bite my tongue and keep a neutral expression on my face, hiding the disgust I feel.

I look around, and am relieved to see that I'm not the only one in a stupid costume; the tributes from 4 are dressed as fish, and the tributes from 10 are dressed as cowboys. They look even more ridiculous than me.

The crowd starts pointing and cheering excitedly at something behind me. I turn around and notice the tributes from 12 riding in. They're dressed in these strange black costumes, and tendrils of fire are trailing behind them. They look . . . brilliant.

My eyes lock with the girl, Katniss, for a few seconds, before she looks away again. I'm pretty sure everyone in the Capitol knows who she is by now - the other tributes certainly do, and some of them glare at her, while others stare at her in awe. She's already making waves. She's going to be a problem.


	5. Training

**A/N: I just wanted to give a shout-out to my wonderful new editor Innermuse. Thanks a ton! If you guys have time you should definitely check her page out, she's an awesome writer!**

* * *

Our mentors aren't pleased with the chariot ride, particularly Chaff. I haven't seen much of Watrock since the ride. I assume she's laying low, which is a smart move considering how angry Chaff seems. He's been ranting for practically ten minutes, and he's been drinking, so his rage is even worse.

"The whole point of the chariot ride is to show you off to potential sponsors, and no one noticed you next to the Girl on Fire! Why isn't District 11's stylists as good as District 12's?"

"Chaff, calm down," Seeder says soothingly. "We all knew that the chariot ride wouldn't help Thresh or Rue get sponsors anyways. District 11's always had to rely on other things to..."

"_What_ other things?" Chaff yells. Then he lowers his voice, and suddenly seems very tired. "Maybe District 11 has no victors because we can't get any bloody sponsors!" He collapses on a coach, seemingly drained of energy.

"Chaff, look." Seeder's voice is firm now. "I won. You won. And if we can do it, so can they. I won't have you going on like this; it's not good for their morale, or ours. Besides, Watrock did her best."

"Right, of course," Chaffs mutters half-heartedly.

"What's important now," Seeder continues, "is that we make an impression during training. That's what really counts anyways. I'm taking Rue down early tomorrow before the other tributes get there so I can see what I have to work with." She gives Rue a wink, and Rue smiles back shyly.

Chaff looks at me and gives a wry smile. "Then I guess Thresh and I have some work to do."

* * *

"So, you're strong. That much is obvious," Chaff says, pouring himself a drink as he studies me. "The career tributes are probably going to approach you about joining their alliance."

"I'm _not_ joining them," I state firmly.

"Good, I don't want you to. In training, I want you to show everything you've got, all the time. Make the other tributes fear you. Make the people in the Capitol bet their money on you."

"What about Rue?" I ask pointedly.

Chaff looks at me with hard eyes and takes a swig of his drink. "Don't get too attached to that kid, Thresh."

"I'm not going to just let her die!" I retort fiercely.

"Then, by all means, form an alliance with her! I wouldn't want District 11's two tributes killing each other anyways!" He leans forward. "But don't risk your own life for hers. I think you can win, Thresh, and I don't want her weighing you down. Don't get me wrong; she's a sweet girl, could get you a lot of sponsors, but she's another mouth you'll need to feed, and I'm willing to bet that she's no good in a fight."

I lean back, seething a little. If Chaff thinks I'm going to leave Rue on her own, he's wrong. I haven't known her that long, but I want to protect her. She's like a little sister to me, and she reminds me of my real sister back home.

"When does training start?" I ask.

"First thing tomorrow morning," Chaff replies. He stands to exit the room, then looks back at me seriously. "Better get some rest, Thresh. Tomorrow you're going to show them what you're made of."

* * *

I walk into the training area and see that most of the other tributes are already there. The boy from District 2 is showing off his combat skills to the girl from 1. I shake my head and line up behind some other tributes to get ready for a combat exercise.

I watch out of the corner of my eye as Rue looks around the room. Suddenly, her eyes light up. She runs off and I lose sight of her. _It's fine,_ I tell myself, calming my nerves, _Nothing bad can happen to her during training. I'm sure she'll be okay._

"You stole my knife!"

I turn around and see that guy from District 2 yelling at the boy from 10. The two start screaming at each other, and I can tell things are going to get ugly fast. A group of trainers rush in and break them apart.

A gleam flashes up on the roof. I look up and see Rue hanging from a net on the ceiling, holding a knife in her hand, an impish grin on her face.

I smile and shake my head, impressed. She was gone for less than five minutes; she's good.

I turn my attention back to my training and pick up a sword. I swing it at a training dummy, but the metal doesn't quite feel right in my hands. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that the Careers are watching me. They start whispering to each other, and the boy from District 1 points at me. After a few moments of this, the guy from 2 walks up towards me.

"I'm Cato," he says, holding out his hand. I don't shake it. Cato gives me a wary look. "Okay, I'm going to lay it down for you. You're good. We want you on our side, to have an alliance with you during the games."

I glare at him, Chaff's words about not joining the Careers ringing in my ears. "If you think I'd join you, think again," I growl, and I start to walk away.

"You're making a big mistake, Thresh," Cato calls after me. "You need someone strong watching your back in the games, and that little girl you hang around won't cut it."

I stop in my tracks, my body tensing. I grit my teeth. _Stay calm,_ my mind tells me,_ Save it for the games. Don't do anything stupid._

Cato knows he hit a soft spot, and he comes closer, smiling tauntingly. "Yeah, you heard me. What's her name? Rue? She won't last two minutes in the Games. Then who will you have on your side?"

I turn around and walk straight up to Cato. My insides feel like they're on fire. "I will never join a group of Capitol lapdogs like you," I snarl right in his face.

Cato's nostrils flare. I turn and walk away. As I'm walking, he yells at me, "This isn't over, Eleven! Better watch your back in the arena, because I'm coming after you."


	6. Evaluations

**A/N: Here we are, chapter six already! Thanks to everyone following this story! Again, big thanks to my beta/editor (I guess those are kinda the same thing :P ) Innermuse. Also, thanks to nb1998 who reviewed every single chapter. This awesome fanfictioner (is that a word?) is writing a story about the 74th Hunger Games through the POV of the District 10 boy, called _Crippled_. Check it out if you've got time!**

* * *

Seeder, Chaff, Vivian, Rue, and I sit around the table, eating breakfast.

"Okay," Seeder says, giving Rue and me some advice for how to handle the Gamemaker session, "Today is the day that you two need to show the Gamemakers everything you've got. Don't hold back. The better your score, the bigger your chances of getting sponsors."

She turns to Rue. " I want you try to get higher than four, which is a reasonable goal for someone of your age and size, but don't worry too much if you don't. The interviews will be more critical for you than your score. Personality is your best friend, Rue."

Then Seeder turns to me, and her face is a little more serious. "You, on the other hand, _need_ to get a high mark. If you get at least an eight, the Capitol will take notice of you, and the other tributes will be intimidated by you."

I nod solemnly. Chaff already made it quite clear how important my training score was. Right now though, Chaff seems to be more occupied with trying to stay awake than giving me advice. He probably has a nasty hangover from last night.

Seeder looks at him with an expression of disgust on her face. "And, from here on out, Chaff and I will be keeping close tabs on you two. We'll do everything in our power to make sure you're ready for the Games." Chaff reaches for a bottle of whisky, but Seeder snatches it out of his reach. "_Including_ staying sober. Right, Chaff?"

"Fine," Chaff grumbles, pouring himself a glass of water instead.

Vivian awkwardly glances at her time-piece and gasps, "You two had better get down to the evaluation room or you'll be late!"

Seeder looks at us with hard eyes. "Best of luck."

* * *

I sit on a bench outside the evaluation room between Rue and the girl from District 10. I tap my foot anxiously as I listen to tributes being called into the room one by one. A lot rests on me getting a good mark. I can't mess up.

"Thresh?" Rue says softly.

I snap out of my thoughts and look at her. "Yeah?"

"Don't worry. You'll do great, and you'll get a really good mark."

I smile and pat her shoulder. "You'll do good, too."

"Thanks," she replies, a tiny smile on her lips.

Just then, I hear my name called on the speakers. I take a deep breath and get to my feet. I give Rue a confident grin and walk towards the room. She waves at me as I walk through the doors. With a boom, they close behind me. The room is mostly empty, except for several dummies and a rack of weapons. A group of people from the Capitol, the Gamemakers, sit in a booth, eating food and chatting loudly.

I walk up to the booth and stand in front of it. "Thresh, District 11," I state loudly, to get their attention.

They turn and watch me. I only have one chance to impress them. I walk over to the weapons rack and pick out a large sword. I step in front of the training dummy, which is basically just a piece of metal attached to the ground, shaped like a human, with a big target on it.

I take a deep breath, my muscles tensing in anticipation of the strike. With a yell that I hope is intimidating, I swing the sword. There's a loud scraping noise of metal against metal, and the head falls off the target and lands on the ground with a clank.

The Gamemakers start muttering to each other. I've impressed them, but it's not going to be enough. Then an idea strikes me. If I pull this off it should put me above the other tributes, but if it doesn't work I'll look really stupid.

I throw my weapon to the ground, and steady myself. I conjure up all the rage and bitterness inside me, calling to mind everything in life that has ever made me angry. In one swift, strong motion I bring my foot up and land a solid kick right to the center of the target. To my relief, the target gives a crack and flies off its hinges, crashing against the back wall.

The room goes completely silent. The Gamemakers just stare at me with their mouths open. I smile to myself, pretty sure that what I just did will get me at least an eight. Without another word, I stride out of the room.

* * *

"They're showing the evaluations!" Vivian shrieks down the hall.

I leave my room and sit with the others in front of the television, trying to calm myself.

"So, moment of truth, eh Thresh?" Chaff asks, his face unreadable.

I don't reply. If I don't get a good score Chaff will be furious, and, more importantly, it could lose me potential sponsors. I don't need the _best_ mark, but I need a pretty high one.

I focus on the screen and watch intently as Caesar Flickerman announces the scores. The Tributes from District 1 both get a nine, and the tributes from 2 both get a ten. Chaff grimaces at these marks, and my heart sinks. These scores are so high; how can I hope to gain sponsors next to them?

"It's alright," Seeder tries to reassure me, "We knew that the Careers would have high marks; they always do. You can still make an impact if you get a high mark, even if it's not as high as theirs."

The other tributes' scores pass, with none of them being particularly impressive. Then I see my face appear. I hold my breath as my score flashes across the screen.

Ten.

_Ten?_ I can't believe it! I beat the District 1 tributes, and my score is just as good as the District 2 tributes'.

Vivian shrieks with delight. Chaff and Seeder cheer and clap me on the back. Rue gives me a little smile of congratulation. I just grin, relieved. This score will definitely help me make an impression.

Then Rue's score flashes across the screen: seven.

Seeder actually screams and jumps up and down. She seems far more excited for Rue's score than mine, which I'm hardly surprised by. They two of them have become quite close during training.

"Rue, that's amazing!" Vivian exclaims, clapping her hands. Chaff gives her a wink and a thumbs-up.

I wrap Rue in a bear-hug. I'm so proud for her. I'm somewhat shocked that she was able to get such a high mark, but I'm pleased, too. We both got better marks than we could have asked for.

"Hey, you two might want to take a look at this," Chaff says, suddenly dead serious. I turn and look at the television. Katniss's face is on the screen with her score, and it's an eleven.

Vivian gasps. Seeder is very still, just staring. Rue's eyes are huge. The girl from District 12 just got a higher mark than any of the Careers. And me.

I _knew_ that girl would be trouble.


	7. Preparations

"Your televised interview is tonight," Chaff says, facing me in the sitting room, "so we're going to need to figure out what angle you want to take."

"Angle?" I ask, unsure of what he means.

"Yes, angle," Chaff repeats. "Are you going to be friendly, mysterious, blood-thirsty?"

I shrug and rub my forehead. Chaff's been so hard on me lately. I thought he'd lay off a bit after I got such a good training score, but he keeps pushing me to think ahead and prepare myself constantly. I've had next to no down-time, and it's wearing me out.

"Can't I just be myself?" I almost plead.

"Not if you want any sponsors," Chaff replies shortly.

"I _will_ get sponsors," I protest, "but not because of my personality: because of my size."

"You need to be memorable," Chaff continues, seemingly ignoring my statement. "You need to stand out in the minds of potential sponsors. The interviews are just as important, if not more so, than your training score."

"I _am_ memorable!" I snap, voice rising. Why won't he just listen to me? "I'm memorable because I'm a big tribute from one of the outer districts. Sponsors aren't going to look at my personality for one second; they'll be looking at my physique!"

"Thresh, shut up and just do what I say!" Chaff bellows. I fall silent, and Chaff lowers his voice a bit more. "I like you, Thresh. I want you to win, and I think you can. You've got more potential than all the other tributes I've been given in the past."

I sit there, seething with anger, but I decide to swallow my bitter retort. It's not a good idea to argue with my mentor; he is the link between me and my sponsors after all, and therefore the difference between life and death.

"Okay, you're right," I say, throwing up my hands, exasperated. "I need an angle."

Chaff stares at me for a moment, probably surprised that I agreed with him so fast, but quickly regains his composure. "Well," he begins again, more cautiously, "I don't think you can pull off the friendly card, and your physique is a contrast with that. Your angle has to be believable, after all. And I don't really want you to be blood-thirsty; that would make you too similar to the Careers..."

"Well, couldn't I be stoic and silent?" I suggest, "Maybe even a little hostile? I'm pretty much already like that, so it wouldn't be hard for me to pull off."

Chaff ponders this for a few seconds. "Alright. Yes, yes... I think that would work nicely. But I want you to take this and exaggerate it. When Caesar talks to you give him only short, surly responses. Be a huge physical presence, silent but deadly. Show them that you're a force to be reckoned with."

"I can do that," I say with a smile.

"Good! Then we'd better go find Watrock and see what she has designed for you. Your interview outfit has to fit the image we want to project, you know."

I give him a wary look. I haven't seen Watrock since the chariot ride, and I know she's been avoiding him.

Chaff seems to read my mind and gives a chuckle, "Don't worry, I'll be polite."

* * *

"Remember, Watrock did her best," I remind Chaff as we stand outside of the dressing room.

"Sure," Chaff replies, knocking loudly on the door.

After a few seconds, the door opens, and I see the familiar pink eyes of Watrock.

"Thresh, Chaff, what a pleasant surprise," she says, but the tone in her voice betrays her uncertainty. "Please, come in."

We enter the room and I look around. There are scraps of cloth lying around, and half-finished outfits hang along the walls. I glance over at a table where various drawings are scattered. I notice one sketch of a suit that's designed to look like wheat, and grimace. I really hope that's not what she wants me to wear.

"Here we are," Watrock says.

I turn and see her appear with my outfit. It's a sleek black suit jacket and pants. The fabric is perfect, with just the right amount of shine. Underneath the jacket is a golden dress shirt, the color of wheat.

It's brilliant. The suit is simple, but intimidating and suave, and the shirt is the perfect tie-in with District 11, to remind people of my roots.

"I wasn't sure what you wanted, so I made it sort of plain," Watrock says, stumbling over her words nervously, "but if you think it's _too_ plain we can accessorize it. I just don't want to make another blunder..."

Chaff just stares at it in silence, his face emotionless. I glance over at him and our eyes meet for a second, a silent agreement passing between us.

"I like it," Chaff says simply.

"Y-you do?" Watrock stammers, shock written across her face.

"It's perfect. It's mysterious, it's deadly, it's got just a little hint of District 11, and it doesn't draw attention away from Thresh himself," Chaff explains, with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I-is this a joke?" Watrock asks with a tight laugh, obviously still stunned. "I thought you _hated_ my work."

"Well I have a reputation to uphold," Chaff says, winking at me. "I may seem unpleasant at first, but I'm really a nice, loveable guy underneath it all. I can appreciate talent when I see it."

"Thank you! I put quite a bit of effort into this," Watrock begins, both relieved and excited now that she's off the hook. "I talked to Aelius-you know, Rue's stylist-about what he was going to dress her in so I could get some inspiration, but that didn't really help me. It took me _forever_ to find something that didn't look completely ridiculous, and I went through several designs, and-"

"Well it's excellent," Chaff says, cutting off Watrock's ramble. "Thresh will be back in a few hours to get all suited up."

"Okay! I'll be ready with my prep team then!" Watrock says, waving to us as we leave the room.

After the door closes behind us, Chaff turns and looks at me with a smirk. "Was I polite enough for you?" he asks pointedly.

"I thought you overdid it a little," I reply, smiling.

Chaff shrugs. "Oh well. I really _did_ like that suit though…"

"So did I," I agree. I'm just glad she didn't come up with something completely ridiculous for me to wear. It would be hard to stay stoic dressed in a wheat suit.


	8. The Interviews

**A/N: Sorry for the slow update, I've been away lately and haven't been able to write in a bit. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and as always thanks to everyone who's reviewed and to my wonderful Beta.**

* * *

"Introducing our host, Caesar Flickerman!"

Cheering erupts from the crowd as Caesar Flickerman mounts the stage. I sit in a half-circle of chairs on stage with the other tributes, waiting for it to be my turn. I'll be near the end, since I'm from District 11, so I have to sit through interview after interview as tributes walk up to the front of the stage, banter with Caesar for three minutes, and then sit back down. I sigh; this will be a long night.

But after only three interviews, I'm glad I listened to Chaff. Everyone is playing some sort of angle. The boy from 2 portrays the blood-thirsty, ruthless killer act, which makes me think that it's a good thing I didn't go with that personality as my own.

Eventually the boy from District 10 sits back down and Rue takes his place in the chair beside Caesar. She's wearing an endearing gossamer gown with wings, and she flutters onto the stage, causing the crowd to fall silent. I find myself grinning that she has the audience so spellbound.

Caesar talks to her for a little, and she answers his questions sweetly. He compliments her for her impressive score in training, which makes her smile.

"So, Rue, what do you think your greatest strength in the Games will be?" Caesar asks.

"I'm very hard to catch," Rue replies, without missing a beat, "and if they can't catch me, they can't kill me. So don't count me out."

"I wouldn't in a million years," Caesar replies encouragingly.

It seems Rue and Seeder worked quite hard on her interview. Rue is confident and sweet in front of the huge Capitol audience, not nearly as shy as I've seen her before. That's good for her.

The bell rings, Rue sits back down, and then I realize it's my turn.

I take a deep breath and walk up the steps onto the stage, shoulders squared and head held high. I sit down in the seat across from him silently.

"So, Thresh, enjoying life in the Capitol?" Caesar asks casually. "I'm sure it's quite different from you life back home."

I grunt and don't answer. Caesar seems taken aback by this, but continues on as if nothing happened. "So, you got a ten in training, which is just as high as the tributes from District 2. That's pretty impressive."

"Yeah," I answer curtly.

"I'm sure you've got a strategy for the Games," Caesar continues, seemingly unfazed by my hostility. "Would you like to share with us what that might be?"

"No," I reply shortly, glaring at him.

"Oh, of course, my bad. You don't want your rivals to know your strategy. Very smart," Caesar says with a smile.

I can tell Caesar is struggling to keep the interview afloat. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Chaff sitting in the crowd grinning at me. I must be doing well so far.

"So, Thresh, we don't know much about you. Care to share some things about your past? Your family, maybe?"

I glare at Caesar with more ferocity than I'd originally intended. He clears his throat awkwardly. To Caesar's credit, he does a good job of stopping the interview from descending into silence, and cracks a few jokes before finally wrapping it up.

"Anything you would like to share before this interview finishes, Thresh?" Caesar asks. I answer him with silence. He laughs good-heartedly, "I didn't think so."

The audience laughs along with Caesar, and then the bell rings. Finally I'm done.

"Well that's all the time we have folks," Caesar says, not quite able to cover how relieved he is that I'm finally leaving. "Best of luck to you, Thresh, District 11 tribute."

I descend the steps and return to my seat. Now I just have to sit through two more tributes before I can finally drop my hostile act.

Katniss Everdeen is next. Her interview makes her seem ditzy and shallow; obviously she didn't spend much, if any, time picking out a characteristic to focus on. Her interview ends and she returns to her seat. She was quite forgettable, even laughable, which pleases me.

Then the boy from District 12 mounts the stage. His interview goes much more smoothly right from the start. He's funny and personable. As the interview comes to a close, Caesar asks him about his love-life. The boy describes a girl he knows from his District that he loves, but who doesn't pay him any attention. I yawn internally. Unrequited love? So cliché.

"So, here's what you do," Caesar says, smiling, "You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?"

"I don't think it's going to work out," he replies sadly, "Winning... won't help in my case."

"Why ever not?" Caesar inquires, clearly mystified.

The boy blushes and then stammers, "Because... because... she came here with me."

The entire crowd goes silent, taking a moment to process what this means. I turn and look at Katniss sitting beside me. She stares at the floor, avoiding the gaze of the cameras, blushing.

I find myself seething with annoyance. Oh, aren't they clever? This little stunt will make them a hit with the people of the Capitol. Star-crossed lovers! They must have known the Capitol will just worship them after that declaration. It was their plan all along.

I could puke.

When the boy's time ends, the crowd starts roaring loudly. As we stand for the closing anthem, I feel my face burn with anger. My interview, Rue's interview, _everybody's_ interview has been overshadowed by his. We're always getting one-upped by these District 12 tributes. I glare at them, bitterness welling up inside me.

After the anthem flourishes to an end, the tributes are led back into the Training Center lobby and into the elevators. When the car reaches the eleventh floor, I leave it to be greeted by the sounds of angry voices.

"-always one step above everyone else!" Chaff is ranting wildly, and drinking at the same time. "The one year District 11 finally has a chance at winning is the year that District 12 decides to bring their best! I'll throttle Haymitch!"

"Chaff, calm down," Seeder says, urgently trying to soothe him as she catches sight of us.

"Why should I?" Chaff continues. "Don't I have a right to be angry? Why, if Haymitch wasn't my best friend and drinking buddy, I'd-"

"Thresh and Rue are here now," Seeder hisses.

Chaff whirls around to face Rue and I with a grin. "Saw your interviews," he says calmly, "You two did great."

"Not great enough," I can't help but grumble bitterly. "District 12 outdid us all... _again_."

I see a pained twitch pull at the corner of Chaff's smile.

"But you two did the very best you could," Seeder butts in, "and I'm proud of you." For a second I think I see the faint trace of a tear in her eye, but she blinks it away stoically, like it was never there. "You've done everything we could ask for and more. You two have made an impression, and that's what counts."

"Besides," Chaff adds, "all these things have just been a lead-up to the Games, so now you can make an impact where it really matters."

"I think they're nice," Rue murmurs suddenly.

Everyone looks at her. Did I hear her correctly? "What?" Chaff asks.

"The District 12 tributes," Rue says haltingly, "They're nice, and talented."

"Well of course they are!" Chaff exclaims, "After all, they're being mentored by my good friend Haymitch! We're drinking buddies, you know..."

Seeder rolls her eyes at Chaff's sudden change in attitude. "I personally like them a lot more than those Careers. But I don't think that's important right now."

At that moment, Vivian rushes in on her stiletto heels, followed by Watrock, who seems to be much bolder since she revealed my interview outfit, along with Aelius and the prep teams.

"I've had the cooks prepare something special for you all since it's your last day before the Games." She pauses, her voice cracking a little. A single tear rolls down her face, but she brushes it away with her manicured fingers and puts on a brave smile. "Anyways, the meal is all ready, and you best come before it gets cold!"

I smile sadly. The Games _are_ tomorrow, and the realization just sunk in. I'm not scared or nervous like I thought I'd be, though. I just find a sadness creeping into my heart. I really will miss these people.


	9. Pains and Memories

**A/N: Woohoo! Another chapter up! A bit later of an update than I had intended, but this chapter's the longest one yet to make up for it. I definitely enjoyed writing this, I had myself crying while doing it (that sounds really lame...) so I hope you wonderful readers like it too!**

* * *

Our meal is spent mostly in silence. Vivian's eyes are red, and I can tell she's been crying; she must actually be fond of us, or maybe just Rue.

"So," Chaff says, finally breaking the silence, "tomorrow's the big day. This may be our last conversation together."

I nod solemnly. "Any last bits of advice?"

"Don't get caught up in the bloodbath," he says instantly. "You may be strong, Thresh, but the so are the Careers, and there are more of them than you. Put some distance between yourself and the other tributes. Find somewhere to set up camp that will give you the upper hand."

Vivian bursts into tears at this. She rushes towards us and embraces Rue in a hug. "I'm going to miss you so much! You've been the best District 11 tributes I've ever had!" She turns to me, instinctively reaching her arms out for a hug, but then pauses and draws back, unsure of what to do.

I bring her into a hug anyways, which clearly surprises her. "Thanks for everything, Vivian," I say, and mean it. She nods, sniffs, and pulls away.

Chaff reaches out his hand and I take it in a firm shake, "It's been an honor mentoring you, Thresh." He gives me a wink and smiles confidently. "I'll see you soon."

I give a bit of a smile at his words. Maybe he really does believe in me. Then I notice Seeder drawing back from the others. She has this strange look on her face, almost like she's in a daze.

"Seeder," I say.

She fixes her eyes on me for a sad moment and then throws her arms around me in a tight embrace. "Good luck, Thresh," she breathes.

"Thanks," I reply. Seeder pulls away sharply, and then walks over to Chaff, turning her back on us.

I turn to Rue, and our eyes lock. More passes between us in this one look than a thousand words could express.

She wraps her small arms around my neck. I gently hug her back, and stroke her hair like I used to do to my younger sister.

"Whatever happens, Rue, I'm very glad I met you," I say softly. "I'll see you in the Games."

* * *

I lie in bed, unable to go to sleep. My mind is swimming with too many thoughts for it to let fatigue settle in. At this time tomorrow I will be in the arena, spending my first night there. Will I have killed someone by then? What about Rue? My mind wanders to the young girl who has become a second sister to me. Will I be able to protect her, or will she die in the bloodbath?

I look at the clock by my bed. Eleven forty-five p.m. I sit up and rub my forehead; maybe a walk will do me good.

I get out of my bed and leave my room. As I'm walking down the hall I pass Rue's room. Quietly, I open the door and peek in. She's lying in her bed, asleep and safe. I smile to myself and close the door.

"Thresh?"

I whip around, muscles tensing instinctively for a fight. Then I relax, and blush. I'm acting like I'm already in the Games.

"You should be asleep," Seeder says softly. "You'll need your rest for tomorrow."

"I can't," I reply, "Every time I close my eyes, all I can think about is the Games."

There is a silence. Seeder looks at me for a moment, and then says astutely, "Come on; let's go into the sitting room so we don't wake anyone."

I follow her into the sitting room and settle down into a couch across from her.

"How do you do it?" I ask, finally.

She looks at me with a raised eyebrow. "What?"

"Survive with the night-terrors. I haven't even been in the Games yet and I'm already having nightmares about them. How can _you_ sleep? How do you cope with them?"

Seeder looks away from me, and I can see a shadow pass across her face. "I'll tell you this, Thresh. When you win the Games, something in you dies along with the other tributes. I thought the horror would end after I won, but the Capitol..." She hesitates. "They don't waste their victors."

Her words don't make any sense to me, and I sit there confused. "What do you mean?"

She shakes her head. "I've already said too much." She pauses and draws in a shaky breath. "The nightmares never stop, Thresh, but eventually you get used to them. You learn to sleep through them, to sort out dreams from reality. The pain doesn't go away; it just dulls with time. Many victors try to dull the pain even more with drugs, pleasurable company-"

"Alcohol," I add. It makes sense to me now, why Chaff would drink all the time. He tries to drown out his memories. When I first met him, I was disgusted by him; now I wonder if I wouldn't do the same thing in his situation.

Seeder looks at me sadly. "Chaff lost more than his hand in the Games. I remember when I mentored him; he was a lot like you. He couldn't back away from a fight. He was anxious to show the Careers he was not to be trifled with. He was focused, determined, proud-maybe even a little blood-thirsty-but honorable.

" I was so _proud_ when he won. I was proud that I'd finally mentored someone to victory and I was relieved that I didn't have to cope with another death. I didn't notice how much he'd changed until later. When he went into the Games, he held his head up high, but when he came out he was a wreck. He kept looking over his shoulder, and he'd eye everyone as if they were a threat. He was paranoid, and he had nightmares. Back in District 11, our houses are beside each other, and I could hear him screaming in the middle of the night. Soon he started drinking, and once he started, he never stopped."

Seeder looked dazed, staring into the distance, as though she could see Chaff's deterioration all over again. "When he started mentoring, he was so cold and gruff. He hardly spoke to the tributes, treated them harshly, acted like they were beneath him-"

"Why wouldn't he show them a little compassion?" I can't help interrupting.

"He did it so he wouldn't grow attached to them," she says, her voice tremulous, "so he wouldn't have to feel the pain of losing someone close to him every year."

Seeder's composure cracks, and she starts sobbing. Her entire body shakes, and she buries her face in her hands as tears stream down her cheeks. I feel a pain in my chest. Quietly, I sit down beside her, and put a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Seeder," I murmur to her. I don't really know what else to say. This woman has been through more than any human being should have to endure.

"I've mentored so many children," Seeder chokes out. "Every year I swear that I won't grow attached to them, but I fail. I can't help but care about them, and they all mean so much to me, and then they-they're taken away."

She closes her eyes, and another sob escapes her. "Chaff sees how devastated I am when our tributes are killed, and he's learned from it. He's been able to do what I never could: to shut them out, to not let them affect him the way they affect me."

I don't want to be insensitive, but something nags me. "But Chaff wasn't like that to me. I mean, he was gruff, but he wasn't distant."

Seeder sits up straight and wipes the tears away from her eyes. "When he met you, he didn't intend to become so fond of you, but you remind him of himself. He's invested so much in you, he doesn't want to see you killed."

She looks into the distance. "Maybe it would be better to be dead. All the tributes I've mentored who died in the Games... maybe they're better off than us."

I can't imagine what it must be like for her: to become attached to these tributes, only to watch them get killed brutally, but knowing that if they did win, they would become a wreck.

"Seeder," I say firmly, "I'm going to try to win. I have to, for my sister and grandmother."

She pats my hand softly. "I know, Thresh. I wouldn't have you throw your life away. I just-I just hope the Games don't change you, or Rue..."

"I'll do my best to help Rue, I promise."

Seeder starts crying softly again. "I've never mentored anyone like her before, Thresh, someone so innocent. It tears me apart to look at her. The Capitol takes children like her, and turns them into murderous monsters."

"That won't happen to Rue," I assure her.

Seeder nods, unable to speak. She wipes the tears from her eyes and smiles bravely at me. "Just promise me that you won't become like _them_-the Careers."

"I won't. I promise."

We sit in silence for a few minutes after that. Fear grips my heart and my stomach clenches up. Seeder has always been so calm and collected, but now I can see a glimpse of the broken woman inside of her. She's so strong; she's never turned to drugs or alcohol, and I admire her for it, but I also pity her. She has to put on a mask and carry on, even with all the tragedy around her.

I give a dry laugh. "You know, it's funny. Everyone thinks that I'm this fearless, deadly tribute, but really I'm actually terrified."

"Thresh, listen to me," Seeder says, her eyes serious, "Being brave doesn't mean that you don't feel any fear. It means you don't let the fear hold you back. You keep going _despite_ the fear."

I look into her golden brown eyes and I feel calm. She takes my hand and gives it a little squeeze. We don't say anything because we don't need to. Both of us understand the seriousness of what is going to happen tomorrow. Both of us know just how terrible the Games will be.

"Seeder, thank you," I whisper.

She smiles understandingly. "You should get some sleep, Thresh." She gives my hand one last squeeze. "I'll never forget you."

As I leave, I glance over my shoulder and give a final smile to the bravest person I'll ever meet.

* * *

Watrock comes to my room early the next morning. "Ready for the main event?"

I nod stoically and follow her out.

She leads me to the roof, and I follow in a bit of a daze. A hovercraft picks us up and a tracking chip is placed in my arm with a syringe. We are led to a room with breakfast laid out, and I eat as much as I can; after all, this might be my last real meal.

After about half an hour the hovercraft finally lands and I leave with Watrock. We enter the launch room and she hands me my outfit. As I put the jacket on, she hands me something else: my father's dog-tag.

I hang it around my neck and smile. "Thank you."

She nods and embraces me tightly. "You can do it; I know you can. Just remember everything Chaff told you and you'll be fine."

"Do you know how Rue is?" I ask.

"I saw her before we left," Watrock says with a joyless smile. "She's with Aelius. He'll make sure she's alright."

At that moment I hear an announcer say that it is time to prepare for launch. I feel my stomach clench up as I pull away from Watrock and step onto the metal plate.

"Good bye, Watrock."

"Good bye, Thresh," she says, choking slightly.

A glass cylinder starts to lower around me.

"Thresh, just know that whatever happens, you've made me proud to design for District 11," Watrock calls as the cylinder encloses around me.

It's the last thing I hear before I'm lifted up out of the room, and my eyes are met with blinding sunlight.


	10. Into the Arena

_Author's Note: Hey guys! I'm SO sorry for the delay! I suffered a big case of writer's block here! Anyways, I got over it, so here's a chapter. Just a warning; this story will probably be updated very slowly for the next few weeks as I am really busy with school. Also, I just want to point out that up until this point I've been trying to stick really closely to the books, however, from now on I may start blending things from the movie into it as well (such as Thresh getting a weapon). Anyways, hope you guys like it!_

* * *

I am out in the open, facing the Cornucopia. There are tributes to my left and my right, forming a circle. I can see a big timer, counting down from sixty. Most of the tributes are looking at the items in the Cornucopia, preparing their feet to run and fight for the best items. I'm surveying my surroundings, trying to figure out where to go. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice something.

A wheat field.

Perfect.

I glance back to the Cornucopia for a second. I notice a few backpacks lying around, I'll grab one of those and then run. I look at Rue, who is a few tributes away from me. I guess I'm hoping she'll look at me, but she's focused on the timer.

_5._

_4._

_3._

_2._

_1._

A gong sounds and I sprint off of my plate, not waiting to see what the other tributes are doing. My fingers wrap around the straps on a backpack and I hoist it up so it won't fall while I'm running around. I notice something shining not too far away, so I rush over and pick it up, barely pausing to notice what it is: a sickle-like sword, and next to it a large water bottle. Good, they should be helpful.

I look around, trying to pinpoint Rue's location. People are running, falling, fighting, dying. All around me, it's utter chaos.

A girl darts in front of me and suddenly collapses to the ground, coughing up blood all over my boots. A knife is lodged in her back, and I notice that the girl from District 2 is hurling the deadly projectiles at tributes. I duck as a knife whizzes over my head, and my eyes lock onto hers. She flinches, unsure of what to do; after all, she isn't dumb. I'm at least two times her size. She decides not to try for me again, and instead hurls a knife into another tribute's back.

I have to find Rue and get us out of here.

"Rue!" I call, desperately, looking around. I can't see her and start to panic. What if she's already dead? Practically at the top of my lungs, I roar, "Rue!"

I see Cato cut a boy down with a machete and then turn. He looks at me with a murderous glint in his eye. How long have I been standing here? Thirty seconds? Three minutes? I can't tell anymore; everything's a blur, but the one thing I am certain of is that I can't stay here any longer.

I turn and start running towards the field of grain. A boy gets in my way, he looks at me with frantic eyes. Time almost seems to slow down as I stare at him. My mind starts racing as I try to figure out what to do. I don't want to kill him. He hasn't done anything to deserve death, but I can't let him slow me down. I set my jaw and slash him across the face with my blade. He falls down. Dead.

My brain doesn't seem to register what I've just done, it's racing so fast.

As I run, I spare a glance over my shoulder. A sizeable number of the tributes are either dead or have escaped, but there are still ten or so battling it out.

I keep running, my legs burning and my breaths ragged. I dodge between some trees and come crashing into the wheat field. I collapse, panting heavily.

The field is the perfect place to stay; its stalks will provide me with cover, the grain can serve as food, and I'm familiar with the terrain… It also reminds me of home.

If I can occupy this area and keep other tributes out, then I'll be pretty safe.

I take the bag off of my back and open it up to see what's inside. I find a tarp, an empty water bottle (pretty much useless, since I already picked up a water bottle, which was actually full), a sleeping bag, some jerky, a bottle of iodine, a rope, and a box of matches. I'm glad I grabbed this big black one instead of the orange ones that were lying around; they would've been like a beacon in the night.

After the chaos of the bloodbath, it is suddenly eerily silent. My mind starts filling with thoughts. I just killed a boy. I _killed_ him, without a second thought. Have I become a cold-blooded killer, no better than Cato?

No, that isn't it. Cato relishes killing people. I did it because I had to.

I try to shake off such thoughts and go about setting up a make-shift camp. I lay the sleeping bag out over the tarp, so that if it rains I can wrap the tarp about myself. I don't want to do anything that would give away my position, or dedicate me to just one spot, so I simply toss my backpack on the ground.

Then I sit down in the field, unsure of what to do next. It finally settles in that I am completely alone. I have no idea how long the Games will last, but if I want to win, I'll be alone for a long time. I thought I'd have Rue with me. I didn't think we'd get separated. This incessant waiting would be far more tolerable with some company, but, as it is, I have to stay here by myself.

It'll be a wonder if I don't go crazy.

I have to do something, anything, to keep a grip on reality, to follow what's going on in the Games around me.

A thought strikes me suddenly. I find a spot of clear dirt in the field and run my finger through it, writing words. When I'm done, I sit back. I've written down the twelve Districts, and have put down a female and male tribute for each. When each one dies I'll scratch them off so I can keep track of who is still out there.

I sit staring at the list, and then add another word beside it. _Days_. If I want to keep my sanity, it will help to know how long I've been in the arena.

It's late afternoon now, I think, and I can hear the cannon firing, which means the fighting in the Cornucopia must be over. The cannon fires eleven times, and then falls silent.

I guess there's nothing to do now but wait until they show the fallen.

* * *

I'm chewing on some grain and drinking a bit of water when the anthem starts to play. I bend the stalks of wheat back to get a better view of the screen in the air. My heart starts beating faster, and I can feel my stomach grow tight. I'm terrified of what I'm going to see on that screen. What if Rue's face is up there?

The anthem fades out and everything goes black for a few seconds, and then the screen lights up again, showing the headshots of the fallen tributes.

I scratch the tributes off my list as I see their faces appear. The girl from District 3 is first. That means Cato, Clove and the tributes from 1 are still alive. Pity; I had hoped at least one of them would have died, but I guess I hadn't really expected it anyways.

Next is the boy from 4; guess he wasn't good enough to join the Careers' pack. Then they show the boy from District 5. I see both tributes from 6 and 7, the boy from District 8, both from District 9, and the girl from District 10. The Capitol seal appears in the sky, a final bit of music flourishes, and then the sky is black again.

That's it. The first day has passed. Eleven are dead, and thirteen are alive-including Rue. I'm practically shaking with relief; Rue is _alive_. She's still out there somewhere. She survived the bloodbath, tough kid, which means there's a good chance she'll be safe for a while at least.

_Maybe I should go and find her,_ I muse, then push the thought away. No, the arena's huge; she could be anywhere, and if she doesn't want to be seen, chances are I will definitely not see her. It'd be better if I stay where I am. Maybe she'll be able to find me.

I crawl into my sleeping bag, thankful for its warmth since the air has gone chilly. As I close my eyes and drift to sleep I wonder what Rue is doing to keep warm. I hope she's alright...

* * *

_Boom!_

I wake with a start. A cannon just went off. Someone's been killed! I thrash around wildly as I struggle to get out of my sleeping bag and grab my weapon. I stay frozen in a crouching position as I listen intently to my surroundings, my heart racing.

Nothing.

I look up through the stalks of wheat and see a pillar of smoke in the distance, probably from a campfire. Chances are it's either from the person who just died, or from the Careers; they'd be the only ones with enough guts to give away their position. Either way, the Careers are probably by the smoke, which means they're a long way away from me.

I'm fortunate. If the Careers had decided to come after me, they could've killed me without much of a struggle. I've got to be far more careful from now on. If I had Rue with me we could take watch-shifts during the night, but I don't have her.

_Stop it_! I shake my head to clear it. I can't keep focusing on not having Rue with me. I have to start worrying about my survival. It's just me now.

So, now I have to figure out a way of being able to get some rest, while still being alert to my surroundings. I could try and make a trap, but I've never done anything like that before. Perhaps I could put something around the edge of the field, something that would alert me to the presence of intruders, like an alarm or something.

Maybe there's something in my bag that could help. I pull my bag out of its hole in the ground and rummage through it. I find a roll of string and start thinking hard; this will definitely help, but if I had something made of metal, that would be significant.

My fingers shake as I continue to search my backpack, and I realize how cold it is. Without the warmth of my sleeping bag, I'm practically freezing. It's probably best to call it a night and continue my search in the morning. I can barely see anything anyways, as it's pitch black out.

I shove my pack back into the hole and return to my sleeping bag. Chances are that no one will come after me. I should be safe for one night, at least.

Right?


	11. Old Wounds

**_A/N: Ah, finally another chapter! Thanks to all of you who have stuck with this story, despite my terribly slow updates. You're the best! :)_**

* * *

I push the stalks of grain out of my way as I walk through the field. A gentle breeze blows past me, carrying with it the sounds of children playing in the distance. I close my eyes as the sun's rays warm my face. Eventually the field fades into a gravel path with small wooden shacks on either side. People are rushing down the path in both directions, urgency in their steps.

_I know this street,_ I think. _I've walked it more times than I can count._

Suddenly, an old man stops and looks at me. He squints, and then his eyes widen with shock.

"It's him! It's Thresh!" the old man exclaims, "He's back!"

Everyone stops in their tracks and stare at me. They begin to murmur excitedly, and then the whole crowd erupts into cheers.

I simply stand there, dumbfounded. _What's going on?_

People clap me on the back and shake my hand. Hundreds of voices buzz around me, but I don't really hear anything. I stumble through the crowd, trying to get away from everyone, everything.

"Well, well, would you look who it is?"

I turn towards the familiar voice. A girl of about seventeen is standing in front of me. A half smile tugs at the corner of her full lips. Deep brown eyes twinkle impishly behind strands of her long, silky black hair.

"Maize?" I ask.

"So you _do_ remember me," she grins. "Come on, let's get out of here."

She grabs my hand and pulls me away-no small task with the crowd pressing in on us from every side. After a few sharp turns between buildings, Maize and I are finally alone.

She laughs, breathing heavily. Her dark skin almost seems to glow in the light. She's beautiful.

"The conquering champion returns." She looks me up and down. "You look good."

"You look amazing," I blurt out. I instantly bite my lip, bashful. I've liked Maize for as long as I can remember, but neither of us ever acted on it. We both agreed that looking after our families came first, and that romance in District 11 was bound to end in tragedy anyways.

She grins and takes a little step towards me. My stomach ties itself in a big knot; it's so easy to get lost in her gaze.

"You know, I thought that after you won the Games you'd be different," she murmurs. "I thought you wouldn't have time for us 'little folk', but I hear you've been giving your prize money to the needy here…" Her eyes meet mine, "including my family. Is that true, Thresh?"

"I guess," I reply. I wasn't aware I had been giving people money, or that I had even won the Games. I can't remember anything; it's all too fuzzy to make heads or tails of it.

She takes another step towards me, now only a few inches away.

"You're amazing, Thresh. You know that?"

"So I've been told." I grin.

Maize gives a tiny laugh and then throws her arms around me, pulling me into a kiss. I wrap my fingers in her hair, pulling her closer as I kiss her back strongly.

After a few seconds she pulls away, her cheeks flushed. She gives an awkward cough.

"Anyways, I shouldn't keep you all to myself. Your family will want to see you." Then she winks and adds, "but we can continue this later."

Next thing I know I'm standing in front of my house. I don't remember walking here. Strange.

I make my way to the building and knock on the door. No one answers, so I push the door open and enter the house.

The room I walk into is rustic and quaint. Everything I remember is there, from the tan walls to the wooden rocking chair in the corner.

"Thresh?"

That voice…

"Thresh! It _is_ you!"

I turn just in time for my sister to run and fling her arms around me.

"I _knew_ you'd come back, Thresh! I knew you'd win!"

A bubble of laughter escapes my throat. "It'll take more than a couple of Careers to bring me down!"

"Come on, Grandma's in here. She'll be so excited to see you."

My sister grabs my hand and drags me into the next room. My Grandmother is sitting in her favourite chair. She looks up at me with her thoughtful brown eyes, and her creased face brightens in a smile.

"Thresh," she whispers.

"Grandmother." Just a minute ago I was laughing, and now I feel like crying. Am I going insane?

"I'm so proud of you." Grandmother beams and gives me a tight hug.

The three of us stare at each other. Suddenly, we're all laughing and hugging.

A second later, I freeze. Something is wrong, I can feel it.

Something flashes out of the corner, and my sister screams. As she falls to the ground I stare at the blade lodged in her back. I look up, panicked, and see another flash. I hit the ground, pulling my Grandmother down with me, just barely dodging the knife. From the ground I hear a hauntingly familiar laugh: Clove.

How did she get here?

"We're getting out of here, now!" I pull my grandmother to her feet, practically dragging her towards the door.

As I reach for the doorknob I hear a loud cracking noise, and suddenly the door flies off its hinges, knocking into me and sending me flying. I look up, and my breath catches in my throat. Cato stands framed in the doorway, grinning wickedly.

He grabs my grandmother by the neck and lifts her into the air, choking the life out of her.

"No!" I scream, pushing myself to my feet. I charge at Cato. I have to get to my grandmother before-

Cato smirks at me and breaks her neck. With a single squeeze of his hand, it's done. He tosses her body aside as if she's just an afterthought.

"I'll kill you!" I scream at him, unable to charge the monster and rip him apart like I want to.

Cato just steps aside, and the District 1 tribute boy enters, dragging Maize in with him. He has a sword to Maize's throat. She stares at me with those beautiful eyes full of tears.

I glare at the tribute, an animal-like snarl in the back of my throat. "I swear," I hiss, "if you hurt her-"

The boy looks at me, smiling darkly. In one swift move, he slits Maize's throat.

Time slows down around me as Maize collapses to the ground, lifelessly. Out of the corner of my eye I see Clove hurl a knife, laughing cruelly. I watch the blade hurtle through the air, but I can't do anything. The blade lodges itself in my chest and I fall to the ground. My vision starts to go dark, but not before I see Cato's gloating face as he walks over.

"I told you I'd kill you, Thresh."

He raises his sword and then thrusts it down-

* * *

"_No!_" I yell, sitting up straight. I look around frantically, and for a few seconds I forget where I am. Then reality starts to settle in.

_It was just a dream. My family is back in District 11. I am in the arena, I have been for four days. I am alone._

I repeat these truths in my head a few times, like a chant, to calm myself. Slowly my heart rate slows down and my breathing returns to normal. _My grandmother and sister are fine, safe. Maize too._

_Maize._ I had almost forgotten about her. It seems like I've been here for an eternity.

I remember her clearly now, though. Maize, the girl I loved. The girl who my life in District 11 kept me from having. If we had been born somewhere else, _anywhere_ else, we could have been happy.

But we weren't.

We knew love led to vulnerability and weakness, and, in District 11, weakness is a thing you can't have. Together, we agreed to ignore our feelings, to be strong for our families.

I shake my head, trying to clear the memories. I can't think about Maize, not now. I can't be weak. If I ever want to see her and my sister and grandmother again, I need to be strong. I need to win the Games.

I turn my face up to the sky. It's late at night, and the Capitol symbol has still not flashed yet. This will be the second day in a row without any death. The Gamemakers will probably do something to force the tributes together soon. I frown at the empty sky. _You Capitol dogs and your sick sense of humor,_ I want to yell. Like yelling could fix anything.

I curl back up in my sleeping bag and close my eyes, hoping emptily that the nightmares won't persist.


End file.
